


Trouble in Paradise

by Madame de flammes (owlaholic68)



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Demons, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Swearing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/Madame%20de%20flammes
Summary: James and Jacques have their first fight because James found out that Jacques was actually a high-ranking demon.Bad timing, because a complaint about their relationship has been filed with Jacques’ HR department.





	Trouble in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the early 1900's.

“Are you okay, dear-”

James startles as Jacques speaks to him. He flinches at his lover’s gentle touch and stands too quickly, knocking over his chair in his haste to put distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, briefly glancing up at Jacques’ face and registering the confusion there. “I – I’m just jumpy,” he stammers. “N-not feeling well.”

Jacques takes a step towards him, arm outstretched to comfort, but James scurries back a few steps at his approach. Confusion turns to hurt and concern. “Sweetheart, you’ve been jumpy for days now. Are you sick? Are you hungry? Tell me what’s wrong, please. I just want to help.”

“N-Nothing’s wrong.”

“James, please.”

“I’m serious. I’m f-fine, Jacques. Just drop it.”

“No, I’m not going to drop it.” Jacques steps closer and he’s suddenly way too close for comfort. James backs up until his back hits the brick of the fireplace. He stares down at the rug, trying to tamp down rising panic at the feeling of being cornered. “At least look at me, James, please.”

James forces himself to look up at Jacques. Untamable mess of curly hair, thick glasses, blue eyes that are filled with concern and desperation, a handful of freckles across his cherubic cheeks. He looks exactly the same as when they met.

They met thirty years ago and Jacques hasn’t aged a day.

James had ignored it for the first twenty years. Jacques made excuses whenever someone commented on it: the men of his family had always aged gracefully, he was much younger in college than he had actually looked, etc. For twenty years James had accepted the excuses because he was blinded by love, cherishing the short time they would have together.

Until he realized one day that it might not be such a short time after all.

He seriously asked a few years ago, sat Jacques down and pointed out that it was unusual. Even if Jacques truly graduated early and was only eighteen or nineteen in college, he should look fifty now. Jacques seemed concerned about his line of questioning and gave a lie so believable that it almost threw him off the trail: magic had prolonged his life.

Magic. James believed it for a few more years until he started growing uneasy with the idea. So instead James had started doing what he did best: researching. Magic that could prolong ones’ life usually came with serious consequences or side effects for humans, none of which Jacques was outwardly exhibiting. So James tried another approach and started thinking that maybe Jacques wasn’t even _human. _

He wasn’t a vampire too (obviously, James would have already known that). He started eliminating other possibilities, checking things off an enormous list of immortal beings.

His breakthrough came last week when Jacques’ two sisters came to visit town. James had heard of them but never met them before. The meeting went catastrophically bad, as both Lucy and Harriett seemed to immediately hate him. They were both violent and mean (not to him since if they were, James got the impression that Jacques would kick their asses), cruel and uncaring of others. James had the private thought, once they finally left town, that he was glad to be rid of those demons.

Demons. As soon as he had that thought, James wished he hadn’t, because everything slotted into place with awful clarity. He was violently sick that evening and spent the night curled up on the couch after reassuring Jacques that he was feeling better but that he didn’t want him to catch whatever nasty bug he had. That first night passed in a blur of panic and betrayal.

That was three days ago, and James hasn’t been able to look him in the eye since.

“This has something to do with me,” Jacques slowly says. His eyes narrow. He must see it in James’ expression. “You’re avoiding me for some reason. Please, dear, just be open and honest with me. Whatever this is, I want to fix it.”

“Open and honest?” James snaps. His voice cuts Jacques like a knife, and James almost falters at the open hurt on his lover’s face. “You want to talk about being open and honest, Jacques? Fucking _seriously?” _

“What are you talking about? Darling, please, just calm down-”

“You _know _what I’m talking about. Don’t – don’t even start with that, Jacques. I’m not _stupid. _I – I know-” James hesitates. Jacques’ posture has turned from confused to defensive and there’s a hint of danger there that James has never seen before. He swallows hard and keeps his chin up. It’s too late to back down now. “I know that you’re a demon.”

Jacques drops the placating act awful quick. “So?”

“So?” James’ voice cracks. His stomach plummets and twists. Jacques didn’t even try to deny it. “You _lied _to me, Jacques. You lied again and again, for years. You told me that you’d always tell me the truth and then you – you lied about who you were!”

“I _had _to lie!” Jacques’ voice raises a few degrees and James’ breath catches. “You think I’m just going to be like, oh yeah by the way I’m a demon from Hell! Fucking of _course _I lied to you, James! Do I regret it? Of course! Could I change it? No, of course not!” He paces a few steps and tugs at his hair with one hand. Like a dam breaking, he keeps barreling on, voice rising decibel by decibel until he’s yelling. “So just deal with it because I’m not changing, _sweetheart! _I trusted you to be able to deal with something like this and not freak the fuck out. You’re a vampire for fuck’s sake, you can handle being with a demon. I stuck with you when you changed because I love you, so I expected you to do the same! So what if you weren’t informed at the start, you’re informed now, so deal with it!”

A silence falls in the room after he’s done. An angry silence from Jacques, a shocked one from James.

His vision blurs with tears. “H-How _dare_ you.” He sniffles but continues despite how upset and weak he knows he appears. “How dare you raise your voice towards me. How – how dare you turn this whole thing against me. Y-You’re acting like it’s my fault even though you’re the one in the wrong and you should b-be ashamed of yourself.”

Before he can lose his nerve, he turns on his heel and throws open the bedroom door. Shoves all the junk out of the closet to unearth Jacques’ suitcase set (James didn’t own one himself – he hated travelling and therefore never had reason to buy luggage). He takes the smallest suitcase, more of an overnight travelling bag, and puts it on the bed.

Jacques is slow to realize what he’s doing, but as soon as James starts taking clothing from the dresser and stuffing it into the suitcase, he appears at the bedroom door. “Where are you going?”

James doesn’t answer.

Many years ago, Jacques had promised that even though he had a nasty temper towards others, he would never turn that temper on James. He had said that if ever he should raise his voice in his direction, James had every right to walk out on him and not speak to him until he properly apologized.

“Where are you going?” Jacques repeats, anger in his voice turning to desperation.

James throws a bundle of socks into the suitcase, follows it up with several pairs of pants and stacks of shirts, and doesn’t even look in Jacques’ direction. He yanks the zipper of the bag closed and throws it over his shoulder, then brushes past Jacques, half-shoving him out of the way.

“Darling, please.” Jacques follows him to the front door. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please – please don’t go-” He grabs James’ arm.

“Don’t touch me,” James snaps. He yanks his arm free and shoves his feet into his shoes. “You think you have the right to touch me?” _Never accept an angry lover’s first apology, _his mother had always said. _The first apology is simply an attempt to placate you, and it’s usually just a knee-jerk response to your own reaction. _“I’m leaving, Jacques. Don’t try to follow me.”

He slams the door in Jacques’ face, then climbs into his car, gently closes the car door, and starts driving towards downtown. He parks at the first hotel he sees and requests a last-minute reservation of a room for three nights. Three nights sounds like a good start and due to Jacques’ overwhelming generosity, he’s got plenty of cash in his wallet to last him for a while.

James throws his bag on the floor of the hotel room, kicks off his shoes, collapses on the bed, and finally lets himself break down. He doesn’t know how long he sits there sobbing, but he looks up and suddenly it’s dark outside. The clock on the bedside table reads just after eleven at night.

Vampires normally don’t get tired, but this whole day has left James exhausted. He changes into pajamas and curls up on the too-large hotel bed. It doesn’t feel like home and James doesn’t know the last time he went to bed alone. It’s awful and this whole day has been a nightmare and James is haunted by the thought that he doesn’t know what he’s going to do now.

He doesn’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

The hotel has a lavish breakfast spread but James doesn’t feel the slightest bit hungry. He cradles a cup of tea and pokes at a bowl of assorted fruits.

His morose attitude and haggard appearance drives everyone else away from his table. A hotel attendant approaches as he’s finishing staring at his cooling tea.

“Mister Jenkins?” The attendant says. He extends a piece of paper. “A telegram came for you this morning.”

“Oh, thank you.” James takes it and tentatively opens the message. As expected, it’s from Jacques. It only says: Please call me when you get a chance.

“Weak,” James mutters to himself, and tears the telegram in half. He stands and throws it in the nearby fireplace. “I’m not about to accept an apology over the phone.”

As he returns to his seat, James notices a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone watching him who turned away too quickly? He busies himself with adjusting his chair and subtly scans the room.

There’s a beefcake of a man sitting in an armchair in the corner who is discreetly keeping an eye on James. Something about the man seems off, though James can’t put his finger on it: he’s well-dressed though a few years out of fashion, delicately drinking some coffee. Is he really watching James, or is that just his imagination run wild after such a traumatic day yesterday?

It’s just his overactive mind. Everything’s fine. James stops by his room to grab a scarf and to steady himself. Instead of spending all day moping inside, he’s decided to walk around downtown and do a bit of shopping. There’s a used bookstore that he can reasonably spend several hours in, and he’s been on the search for a new hat for months now, so he can always pursue that too. Anything to distract himself.

The man from breakfast is gone when James passes by the breakfast parlor on his way out. He still finds himself looking over his shoulder every couple of blocks as he window-shops his way to the main square.

In the shadow of the nearly-finished New Cathedral, James ducks into a hat store. He walks out with a new hat to replace his nearly threadbare one, and internally startles to see the man from earlier standing in the middle of the square gazing up at the church under construction. He’s wearing a long wool coat and his arms are folded behind his back, his face obscured by the shadow of the colossus in front of him.

Power. That’s what’s pinging James’ danger signal: whoever this is, they are radiating a sense of unnatural power. Unearthly even, unhuman.

Oh holy shit, and he’s approaching James.

“I’m afraid I’m new to the city and I’ve gotten a bit lost,” the man says. He coldly smiles, seemingly unaware of James’ inner panic. “Would you be able to direct me in the direction of the Cathedral? I asked for directions earlier but they lead me here. I’m afraid this isn’t the Cathedral I’m looking for.”

“You-you’re looking for the Old C-Cathedral, then?” James squeaks. He clears his throat and tears his eyes away from the man. “That’s the one in the Gothic style. It’s, um, if you take this road west away from the river-”

“Perhaps you could just show me,” the man says. “I’ve got an awful sense of direction, and I wouldn’t mind the company. If you’ve got nothing else to do, of course.”

Shit _shit shit. _Not only does James not have an excuse ready, the bookstore he was going to go to is a block off the Old Cathedral. They’d be heading in the same direction even if he ditched this guy here. Damn you, social anxiety!

“No, I – I don’t have anything pressing,” he stammers. “I can show you, Sir.” This man looks like someone who likes to be called Sir. He radiates that kind of authority.

The man laughs. “Oh, such a polite young man! Well then, lead the way.”

Thankfully it’s only a fifteen-minute walk to the Old Cathedral square. James spends most of it trying to walk as far away from this man as possible while still staying on the sidewalk. The man makes small talk about the city, the weather, current events, and subtly integrates personal questions into his chatter. James dodges all but the most pointed inquiries, revealing that he lives on the western edge of the city, not far from the University. He admits that he is not married but is in a committed relationship, though the admission makes his heart ache as he has succeeded in distracting himself from thoughts of Jacques for several hours now. No, he doesn’t have any pets. Yes, he graduated from the University of Bleston with a degree in Ancient Studies.

“You know, I think we may have a friend in common,” the man pipes up as they’re nearing the main square with the dreary Old Cathedral towering into the fog. “It just occurred to me, he also went to the University here. It’s such a small school, perhaps you know him. His name is Jacques-”

James tunes out the rest of the sentence from panic. He looks up and realizes that the man is waiting for a response. “Y-Yes, I do believe I know him.”

“Yes, well I was just saying that he currently works for me. Crazy coincidence, huh? Small world.”

Jacques works for this man. This is his boss. Jacques is a – a demon. So whoever this is, they’re a demon too, except surely more powerful and dangerous and what the _fuck _is Jacques’ boss randomly doing in town, talking to James right now? _Coincidence my ass, _he thinks. This guy knows who James is and approached him on purpose.

But for what purpose?

“O-Oh.” James’ eyes widen and takes two steps backwards. He privately curses himself for his obvious reaction. If he was a normal person who truly just knew Jacques as an acquaintance, he should have reacted with polite interest and not outright fear. “That – that’s interesting, Sir. Um, excuse me-”

“James.” The man stops him with a look. “I was told that you were clever, and it appears that holds true. You understand who I really am. I didn’t fool you for a minute, did I?”

James shakes his head. His tongue has frozen to the roof of his mouth. He feels paralyzed by this demon’s smug stare. If Jacques is the second-in-command of his department, then this must be the Head.

“You may call me William,” says the leader of one of the most dangerous departments of Hell. “James, it is obvious that I have frightened you and that was not my intention. I simply came to talk and get to know the individual that has so thoroughly stolen my deputy’s heart. Would we be able to meet up later for lunch? Perhaps back at the hotel? They have private rooms where we may speak candidly.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” Forcing his response feels like trying to melt a glacier.

“You really don’t have to call me Sir,” William says. “Really, James. You may call me William, or even Will if you would prefer.”

“I would prefer to err on the side of being polite,” James responds. William is trying to disarm him by being kind, but the Wrath department is not known for being kind, so James is going to remain steadfast and not fall for it. This feels uncomfortably like a test and he will not be found lacking. “If you don’t mind, Sir, I must get to my shopping. B-But I would appreciate lunch later. Noon will be an acceptable time.”

“Noon it is, then.” William smiles and it’s like Lucy smiling: unnerving as Hell. “I look forward to it, James. Enjoy your shopping.” He finally turns away and James breathes a sigh of relief before ducking into the bookstore.

“Hi James,” the owner says, peeking over a stack of books on the counter as he enters the dusty labyrinth. Olga recognizes him as a frequent repeat customer, and always notifies him when she’s received a particularly odd tome that she thinks may interest him. “Are you alright, dear? You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.” James shoves his trembling hands into his pockets. “May I use your phone, Olga? On second thought, I think I’ve come down with something and I would like to call someone.”

Olga waves him to one of the back rooms housing fiction novels. “Go ahead.”

James dials the number for home without letting himself think twice. Jacques picks up immediately.

“James, please-”

“Shut up, Jacques. I didn’t call you to hear an apology.” James absently scratches the bookstore cat’s head as it walks by. “I just wanted to let you know that your boss is in town.” His voice starts shaking badly on the last few words and he takes a few deep breaths to walk himself off the edge of a panic attack.

“What?” Jacques sounds genuinely surprised. _“What? _Did he say why? Did he – are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He just talked to me. H-He wants to talk to me more over lunch. I – I don’t know, Jacques. I don’t know what he wants or why he’s here or why he wants to talk to _me _and not to _you-”_

“Hey, it’s alright.” Jacques’ voice slips in the lower register where it never fails to calm James down. “William is kind of a bastard but he’s also shit at subtlety. You won’t have to worry about many mind games with him. Just stay calm and you’ll be fine. You’re way smarter than him. In the meantime, I’ll do a quick check at the office to see if there’s anything going on.” He hesitates. “I love you, James. I’m sorry.”

_Never accept an angry lover’s second apology either. _His mother was full of good advice. _That apology will be half-hearted as they realize the full scope of what they’ve done to you. They still haven’t fully learned what they’ve done wrong, nor how to make it right._

“I know. I’m still mad at you but I appreciate the support. Goodbye.” James hangs up and resigns himself to having to wait several hours before lunch.

* * *

A telegram is waiting for him when he returns to the hotel about fifteen minutes before noon.

It’s from Jacques, and this message is longer and more concerning than the last: Lucy filed a complaint with the Head about you. Trying to get me in trouble. Watch your step, he’s here on an unofficial inquiry before lodging a formal case if he finds reason.

Well. This makes things more complicated. James hops up to his room and changes clothes, putting on the nicest thing he had hastily thrown into his bag. He brushes his teeth and fixes his hair.

“I’m just having a business lunch with my boyfriend’s boss,” he tells himself in the mirror, then repeats it until his voice is even and calm. “This is just a normal lunch where all I have to worry about is appearing professional and impressing him.” He doesn’t think about the whole bureaucratic part of it, and what a “formal case” would entail. Could Jacques’ boss even actually do anything against them?

James doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to find out.

He gets down to the lunch banquet room of the hotel exactly at noon, where a server is expecting him and waves him into a private room. It’s empty save for a small round table already laid out with silverware and dining implements, two chairs, both empty.

James sits and fidgets with his fork for five minutes before he realizes that William is deliberately being late to psych him out and also to be an asshole. So he does what he does whenever he has to wait somewhere: he takes a book out of his vest pocket and starts reading. The waiter brings water and a small salad, which James absently nibbles between pages.

He’s so absorbed he doesn’t realize that a full half an hour has gone by before William shows up. The other man has to clear his throat twice before James takes notice that he’s standing in front of the table.

“I do apologize for being a bit late,” William says without an ounce of apology. “I got caught up in something.”

“You were late?” James makes a show of checking his watch with feigned surprise before carefully putting a bookmark in his book and slipping it back into his pocket. “I didn’t even notice. Well, you must be very busy, Sir, so please take a seat.”

The server serves them a small appetizer and James uses his “customer service” voice to engage in polite small talk with William, all the while hiding how his legs are shaking under the table. He can do this. He’s the “people person” of the Org for a reason, and it’s not just for his pretty face.

The main course is brought to the table, a lovely warm dish with pasta and a few chunks of meat and vegetables. It looks plain but the sauce is very good, and the warmth eases the persistent chill in James’ bones.

“If I may, James, I do have some personal concerns about your relationship with my deputy. I hope I’m not coming off as too obtuse or forward, but I am curious about a few things, and I would appreciate it if you answered honestly.”

Apparently “shit at subtlety” was an understatement. James puts down his fork and pretends to look like he doesn’t know what William is implying. “Of course, Sir. Go ahead.” The trick is going to be guessing what red flags William is looking for and avoiding those pitfalls.

“You are a vampire, correct?”

“Yes Sir, that’s correct.”

“Hm. And so you must have a fairly consistent supply. What is that supply, if I may ask?”

An easy question to start with. “Jacques is kind enough to provide for all of my needs.”

“I see. Do you live with him?”

“I do, Sir.”

“So if you live with him, may I ask what you are doing staying several nights in a hotel on the other side of town?”

James had anticipated this question: it was an obvious line of questioning. Thankfully, he had prepared a response. “Because of the exceedingly long-term nature of our relationship, we find it necessary to take small breaks from being in physical contact, in order to preserve our relationship and our sanity. Too much of a good thing can be detrimental, Sir.”

“Interesting.” William lets a minute pass in silence. “You mentioned physical contact. How is your sex life?”

James chokes on his water and coughs until he regains some semblance of composure. “Excuse me?”

“Sex. You have it, do you not?”

“I – I think that’s a rather personal question,” James stammers, face burning.

“I did warn you.” William smiles in an unfriendly way. “I don’t require details, James. I’m just curious about all facets of you and your relationship.” He props his chin on his hand. “Do you need me to repeat the question?”

James quickly shakes his head. “I – um – It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Oh Dear Lord, this is mortifying. _It’s only embarrassing if you let yourself be embarrassed. _Another piece of advice from his mother. James takes another sip of water and gathers himself into a ball of confidence. “I apologize, Sir, you startled me with your indelicate question. What I meant to say is that he is very passionate and attentive. Depending on what I desire at the moment, he can either be gentle or more intense.”

William sits back, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Is he kinky?”

James’ face heats up but he holds tight to that ball of confidence in his chest. “Only if I want him to be.”

“Is that really how he decides to do things? Based on whether or not you want him to do it?”

“Yes Sir, most of the time.”

“Forgive me, but I personally find that hard to believe. The Jacques I know is a bit more rebellious than that. I can’t imagine him doing anything just because someone told him to!” William leans back in his chair and laughs.

The sound rings mocking in James’ ears. “He aims to please me.”

“You appear very difficult to please, James. You seem far too nice for him. He must have a difficult time making you happy.”

James is already shaking his head. “He makes me happy every day, Sir.”

“You _are _too nice, though.” William frowns and James’ stomach churns. He had forgotten that everyone in Jacques’ department was a major asshole. If there’s any fault to be found with James, it’s that he’s nice. “A bit on the delicate side, too.”

“I cannot change who I am.”

“And nobody’s asking you too. But I am concerned that you will be a bad influence on Jacques. The last thing we need is him becoming a big softie. You imply that he’s sweet for you. That is worrying to me, that he even has the capacity to be anything but cruel to someone.”

William lets an uncomfortable silence linger after that statement. James has a minute to wallow in the desire to be literally anywhere but here while staring at the tablecloth.

The waiter brings dessert and now James can awkwardly stare at some chocolate cake instead of an empty plate.

“Why are you so nice?”

“Excuse me?” James is confused at the question. “I’m nice because that’s how I am?”

“No.” William leans forward and James scoots back. “Nobody’s as kind as you for no reason. I mean, look at you!” He stands and is looming behind James before he has a chance to move, putting heavy hands on James’ shoulders. “You’ve got those big dumb soft eyes and a face that made a hard-hearted demon fall in love. You’re soft and sweet and you’ve been scared shitless this whole time but you haven’t run yet. I don’t think I’ve heard you rise your voice above a loud murmur. And yet you’re a vampire and you survive in this dangerous city. You could be mean, Hell you _should _be mean, and yet you’re a fucking sugar plum.”

James tries to move but finds himself pinned in place. His breaths echo in his ears and anxiety is leaving his extremities numb and frozen. “I – I don’t-”

“Why the _fuck _are you so nice?” William demands. “Give me an answer other than ‘because I am’ or I won’t let you leave. This is my last question.”

“I’m sorry, I – I don’t know,” James stutters. “Sir, please-”

_“Answer, _James. Now.”

James tries to think fast. What kind of answer is he looking for? Apparently William had never met someone who wasn’t naturally a dick, so he had no idea that sometimes people were nice for no reason.

“You catch more flies with honey,” James blurts.

“Huh.” William lets go of him. “Explain, James. I am not familiar with that saying.”

“You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” James swallows hard and fiddles with the hem of his sweater. “It means that you find more success if you are nice than if you are mean, Sir. I – I have things that I would like to accomplish, and there are things that Jacques would like to do, but which he cannot do because of his temper. I must be nice to compensate.”

William laughs. “How delightful! He is the foul vinegar and you are the sweet honey that lures in the flies!” He chuckles again. “Jacques always did have an exceptional sweet tooth.”

James shakily stands. “M-May I go now, Sir?”

“You aren’t going to stay and finish your dessert?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ve been sickly of late and I really must go lie down.” James gives the easy excuse. “I beg your pardon.”

“Nonsense, no need to apologize.” William gently but firmly takes James’ chin in his hand. The heat of his hand burns. “Say hello to Jacques for me, Honey Plum. I’m afraid I’m much too busy to personally check in on him, but tell him I said he was doing a marvelous job and to keep up the great work, okay? Okay.” He pats James’ cheek. “Good boy. Run along now, James.”

James finally starts breathing as soon as William has turned heel and sauntered out of the room. He rubs his cheek and steadies himself on the table as the room spins around him. An outlet of the sustained plateau of anxiety he’d reached in the last hour.

He makes his way up to his room in a daze. Relief hits like an express train as soon as he sits down on the bed. William was going to leave town and not investigate further. He was going to drop the whole thing like it never happened.

There’s a knock on his door some time later and James jumps. How long has he been sitting here?

“One moment,” he calls out before ensuring he looks decent and then opening the door.

“There’s a call for you downstairs, Mister Jenkins,” a hotel attendant says. “The call seemed urgent.”

James bites his lip. Probably Jacques. Considering the circumstances, it be wise to give him an update. He goes down to the lobby phone booths to take the call.

“Hello?”

“James?” It is Jacques. “Did everything turn out okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It – it was fine, Jacques. I think he’s going to drop it. He said he didn’t have time to come talk to you himself, but that he thinks you’re doing a great job and to keep up the good work.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Jacques heavily sighs. “Yeah, that means he’s decided filing a formal case isn’t worth the trouble.” There’s a pause on the line. “James, I’d like to speak to you. In person, if you’ll have me.”

“I don’t think I could handle talking to you today,” James admits.

“Tomorrow then. Whenever you want. Please, James. I – I’ve been thinking a lot today. I have some things I’d like to say to you.”

_When an angry lover is resigned to making an apology on your terms, that means they want to apologize, and they want to do it at any cost. They are no longer angry, just sad that they hurt you. They’re willing to listen and they’re willing to internalize whatever you’ll tell them in order to try to do better next time. _

“Tomorrow morning.” James says. “Meet me in the park behind the library and we can talk then.”

“Okay, thank you. Thank you. I love you, James. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jacques. See you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based off two of my current MOTW campaign NPCs: a demon from the Wrath department and his long-standing boyfriend, a vampire who is the opposite of him in pretty much every way. This turned out way longer than expected...


End file.
